


Touch and Go

by SteinShipping61



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anorexia, Bisexual Character, Dullahan - Freeform, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Gay Male Character, Hate to Love, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, Izaya Being Izaya (Durarara!!), Light Sadism, Love/Hate, M/M, Mental Health Issues, NSFW, Psychology, Rough Sex, Sad with a Happy Ending, Shizaya - Freeform, drrr - Freeform, drrr!! - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2020-10-01 18:29:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20366263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SteinShipping61/pseuds/SteinShipping61
Summary: Izaya Orihara is the victim of a vicious stabbing in the heart of Ikebukoro which leaves his nerves destroyed and him paralysed from the waist down.Shizuo Hewajima gets sentenced to community service after an unfortunate incident involving a stop sign and the Yellow Scarves gang. Working these hours he meets the elusive information broker with a flair for the dramatics.





	1. The First Visit

**Author's Note:**

> The chapters may be short in this - it's my first Durarara story.

Izaya stares out the window at the boring world laid out before him. What a drag, having to wile away his time behind these glass bars in chains of blankets with the guards in blue nurse uniforms there to remind him just how feeble he is. His life is dull, so much so he contemplates ending it on a daily basis. Though suicide is so often committed by the confused or the cowardly he feels it's his duty to stay alive just to show them how moronic they are. You should only kill yourself if you want to die and most suicidal people don't. He doesn't either really. The humans of this world are too entertaining to leave it behind. 

Entertaining humans like this one, Shinra Kishitani who sits by his beside on his thrice-weekly visit. "How's work going?" Izaya asks his best friend. Like the others here, Izaya uses stories to mentally escape this prison of the wheelchair. Stories he manipulates and spreads like a virus to cause havoc across the city from the safty of his bed. Though he does miss being part of the action sometimes. 

"Huh? Work is going okay, I keep getting called to help out the victims of some maniac!" Shinra emits a little gasp from his throat. 

"Maniac, hm?" Izaya smirks slyly. This could be fun, he needs all the information about this. He's getting involved one way or another, just try and stop him. 

"Yeah! He's been attacking members of the Yellow Scarves gang with a stop sign!" 

"Is that right?" it amuses Izaya how truly unpredictable most humans are. 

"Oh, I think you know him actually!" Shinra declares with jubilance. It doesn't take much to make this human smile, one of the reasons Izaya likes him so much. "Shizuo Hewajima, we went to middle school together!" 

"He must not have been very memorable," Izaya frowns. He has no recollection of this person, especially when Shinra describes him as a blonde in a crisp bartender suit, fitted in all the right places. While unfamiliar, such a human sounds particularly entrancing. "Tell you what, why don't we go into the city together this weekend? You can show me him in the flesh," 

"That's a great idea!" Shinra agrees. "Sounds like fun!" 

Fun, maybe, But not at all necessary as the new temp nurse arrives. 

~~~

If you kill someone, you must be willing to die yourself. That sentence is the deciding factor on Shizuo's entire life. That gang were being dicks, therefore... they must be willing to take a stop sign to the face. That's not his fault, it's simply derivative. The court disagreed, which is the reason he's stuck here, grumbling by the reception desk of this... what did they call this dump again? Oh yeah, 'supported accommodation for disabled adults'. It's a fucking care home. 

"Here's you uniform," the smiling assistant hands him his clothes. _What do you got to be fucking happy about, huh? _He asks in his head, but stops himself saying out loud. He needs to sign his hours off, after all. The judge thought giving him time serving 'vulnerable adults' might teach him some empathy. Fuck that. The last thing he needs is other people's bullshit feelings piling atop his own, just increasing the ever present intracranial pressure ready to squeeze his brain to death. 

Shizuo changes into the uniform, and he feels really stupid. "I better not have to give any of them a sponge bath," he grumbles. 

The lounge isn't much of a lounge at all. A bunch of random people playing cards or watching TV. Some with crutches, some in wheelchairs or breathing apparatus. Shifting uncomfortably, he asks one of the volunteers what he can do. A real task will make the time go by faster. 

"Go around the rooms, see if anyone needs help," 

Damn, he wanted a real task. Once away from the prying eyes of the volunteers in the lounge Shizuo lights up a quick smoke, blowing up into the ceiling. He awaits blaring alarms and red lighting but nothing comes. So much for empathy, people in wheelchairs live here and the fire alarm doesn't even work. 

He passes the rooms, some people sleeping, some spritely and ready to tell him all about their day. He passes one room where a dark man sits at the window, looking out onto the city. From behind, everything about this guy is a shadow. Black coat, black wheelchair, black hair. Like a raven sitting on a tree branch, motionless. Crap, is he dead? "Tch, you alive in there?" Shizuo asks with clear boredom in his voice. 

"Oh yes, don't worry about me!" the shadow gives him a wave, even though he can't see him. "You're one of the community service 'volunteers' aren't you?" 

"Uh," suddenly embarrassed Shizuo rubs the back of his head, feeling the scratchy ends of his fake blond hair. He should grow it out, he thinks. "Yeah, that's right. You good?" 

"Bored," Izaya admits with a slow drawl. "I'd love to be entertained!" 

Shizuo twitches his eyebrow. This guy... it's like instinct to feel a passionate hate for him, just from the sound of his voice. He hasn't even seen his face yet. "You're the one with the stop sign, aren't you?" 

At this, Shizuo feels is entire body tense. "What makes you think that?" he demands, another hard growl. Huis voice is often hoarse, probably from all the yelling. He walks farther into the room, intrigued to put a face to the name of his one-sided enemy. One can't hate a voice after all. Standing tall by the windowsill, he casts a slight shadow onto the guy's face. Small, frail but with quick, cunning eyes. Skin pale like alabaster. 

Shizuo has to admit, or as infuriating as the guy is, he's pretty. Almost exactly Shizuo's type. For men anyway. His type with women is strong, ruthless, blonde, fierce and passionate. His type for men is small, smart and well spoken. Eyes are a big part of his type too, Shizuo's own he hides behind sunglasses - he doubts their attractiveness heavily, thinking his own eyes dull. But natural dark and smoky is undoubtedly hot. If only he didn't hate this guy, then he'd have a chance. 

"Well, you're here on community service clearly, and you're the type to anger easily. You sounded furious just saying hello to me," the guy chuckles, "And most people who come here on community service are low-level assault attackers, and I heard about the stop sign from a friend. Also, he said the attacker was a blonde. There aren't many blonde men in this city," Izaya lists off. The one difference between this nurse and the man Shinra described is his attire. He'd love to see the nurse in a fitted bartender suit, hugging him in all the right places... 

It's not_ all that_ impressive, Shizuo thinks. "So what's your name then?" 

"Shizuo," 

"Hm, call me Izaya. Pleasure," he sticks out a hand for Shizuo to shake, his eyes daring him to take it. Izaya,. What an irritating name for an irritating man. Why does his mere existence enrage Shizuo so much? Maybe it's that cocky aura that tells him this guy can get away with anything. He hates people who thin they're above retribution. He doesn't shake the hand. 

"Well if that's all, I gotta go," 

"Thank you for providing me some much needed entertainment," Izaya call back. "Oh - and I'd like some coffee please. No sugar, lots of cream," 

"What?!" Shizuo demands. "I'm not here to make your stinkin' coffee!" 

"Actually, that's exactly what you're here for," Shizuo grinds his mouth into a thin line, refusing to admit Izaya is right. Refusing to look him in the eyes lest he actually fall for such an annoying prick. "And some chocolate from the vending machine if you please," 

"Fine," he sneers through his teeth, storming out the room with clenched fists. Gotta keep his anger under control. Though he'd love to throw the vending machine at that annoying little bastard's head. 

Hate and love are interchangeable simply because of the intense passion both emotions require. One cannot have the capacity to love without having the capacity to hate, that's Izaya's experience. Even his best friend Shinra must hate something to be able to love the dullahan, even if that something remains unclear. The dullahan herself, Celty, hates the fated removal of her own head so much she becomes a hate-watcher of her own past. That often translates into a hatred of those around her, those who gawk at and objectify the Headless Rider. It's the very reason she has the ability to love Shinra. 

This man, Shizuo Hewajima, he hated Izaya the second they met, even before they met. Like a lingering grudge from years ago. It's entirely possible to hate something you have no knowledge of, people do it all the time. The simple fact about Shizuo that makes Izaya smile is the fact that his intense hatred can easily be flipped over into devoted love. But he wouldn't play with someone like that. No, not Izaya. 

He sighs. Unfortunately, he seems to be the exception to his own rule. He loves all humans, absolutely unconditionally. But hatred? Never in his life has he felt that. Izaya ponders to himself that if Shizuo could tach him how to hat, maybe he could teach Shizuo how to love in return. Love him specifically. Then he wouldn't really be playing with him, right? 


	2. The Second Visit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, sorry for the shortness of the chapters. I'll be uploading chapter 3 during next week and it'll be longer.

Celty flips the page of her magazine. The woman with no eyes who can see, and with no mouth who cannot speak. An enigmatic individual indeed, that must be why Shinra loves her so much. She's just so fascinating. Damn, that makes him sound like Izaya, and that isn't him. This isn't simple interest, it's love. He loves the dullahan, has since they met. The interest just makes her that much more enthralling._ Hm, there's a badly written article in here about me,_ she types and holds up the magazine. 'Legendary Headless Rider Spotted!' is the generic, sucky title. 

Shinra rolls his eyes. "Is it just me, or is news coverage of you getting dumber and dumber?" 

_There are only so many way to say 'This exists and we don't know what it is' with just so many headwards. _

He nods. "If you don't mind getting 'spotted' again, would you like to come visit Izaya in the home with me?" 

She gasps. Shinra isn't sure how he knows that since she doesn't have a mouth or facial expressions but he does. Their love lets him know what the dullahan is thinking, the tonal context behind typed letters. Like emotional telepathy._ He's still in that care home?! _

"It's only till he can live independently again," Shinra shrugs. "He's learning how to live in a wheelchair. He's going home soon though - even installed ramps in his building!" 

_Good, he has to get out of there,_ she mentally frowns. _He doesn't suit the quiet old man life. _

"Is someone sentimental?" Shinra chuckles, drawing closer to her. She'll either slap him away or embrace him passionately. Thankfully it's the latter as he softly caresses the leather of her motorbike suit. She even wears that inside most of them time. Ashamed of her own human skin while headless. When she's a rider, she's an adjective. Headless. When she's a human, she's a noun. Monster. He rubs her shoulder with one hand. Kisses her other one as his head flops across it. "Don't worry about Izaya, He's the most mentally flexible person I've ever met," 

_Excuse me?! _

"Eh - note I said _person,_ not dullahan!" he withers under her cold telepathic glare. "So will you come?" 

_Yes, _Celty smiles pleasantly. She does like Izaya, confused as to why most people do not. Of course they always cite the reason as his personality but she suspects it's their own limits. 8nable to open themselves up to people of different tastes. She has an honest fear of Izaya dying alone in that wheelchair, but it's dispelled by a trust in his capabilities to seduce not only someone's body but their mind. _I'd very much like to come. _

*

Something in the mirror is not quite right. Shizuo adjusts the waistcoat that's hugging his body a little too closely. He'll need to cut down on the fast food, or just get rid of it afterwards. He would run to the care home but these clothes and shoes aren't suited for hard exercise. He lights up a cigarette for breakfast. Slides the pack in his back pocket to satisfy the cravings come lunchtime. Been a while since his last relapse. Where are those sunglasses? He finds them among the ecosystem of his bedroom carpet, sliding them on. There it is, his true appearance. He feels a little better. 

His sunglasses are Enchroma. Why? Same reason he dyes his hair blonde. Shizuo Hewajima is colour-blind to more dark hues. Blues, purples, brown and black. He seems them in varying shades of grey and vomit-ocre. A terrible thing for someone who lives in a sandstone city. Even moreso for someone who's only entertainment in that shitty run-down festering care home of horror is a man who insists on dressing all in black and brown, with black hair and brown eyes. Thankfully these glasses help a little. He can see Izaya's ashy hair colour at least. 

Shizuo checks his watch and crushes the cigarette between his fingers. Maybe he has an excuse to run after all. Can't be late - gotta get those hours in so he can be done with this as fast as possible. 

When he does arrive, his form is signed and his hours clocked in. He stuffs the crumpled paper into his back pocket and surveys the lounge once again. This time he sees chaotic evil in a setting that seems naturally wrong. On a couch surrounded by friends. Such a habitiat isn't suitable for Izaya, the penguin in the desert. 

He walks up, ready to antagonise the guy into berating him, something he oddly yearns for from this man. But before he can- 

"Hey, Shizuo!" 

"Shinra?!" and Celty. They know Izaya?! 

"Sorry," Izaya chuckles after barely glancing up at him. "But I still don't remember him from middle school. I'm sure I'd remember someone with such a loveable personality," 

_Loveable?!_ But Celty knows he doesn't mean it in the assumed context. Izaya loves all humans because they're interesting, and the more interesting they are the more he loves them. This is the first time he's ever called someone loveable though. 

"Shinra, you're the one who told him about me?" Shizuo growls, though doesn't know why that enrages him so. The doctor couldn't have known. 

"Guilty as charged~~!" the doctor smiles. Shizuo's skin prickles as the only empty seat is beside Izaya. He slowly settles into it, still tensing his bones. He bounces his leg. Gotta microexercise. He remembers Izaya even if the small man doesn't remember him. It took him some time but finally he realised. The one who stabbed Shinra and got away with it, no consequences. That pisses him off most of all. If you do something like that you must expect the consequences you deserve. You don't deserve to just walk away. Shizuo acts out but he expects the consequences and is prepared to deal with them. 

Izaya acts like he's above all of that, which nobody is. Even if he was expelled, that doesn't seem like it's been much of a consequence to the broker. 

A lingering grudge from years ago manifested into hatred. 

"Shizuo, I must ask," Izaya grins at him, eyes that tell the tale of an invincible legendary being. But nobody is invincible, Shizuo shall prove that. "What do you hate the most in this world?" 

A question he doesn't know the answer to. In what context is Izaya asking? Besides, the existence of Celty proves the existence of a mystical world that Shizuo can/'t fathom, or doesn't yet know of. He cannot make an informed decision based on inconsistent data, sicne he can't hate things he doesn't know exist. 

"Hm, no answer? How unforntunate," Izaya chuckles almost inaudibly but Shizuo hears it. They're so close, how can he not? He sees every detail of Izaya's face. Those shining long lashes. 

Izaya sees the tortured man sitting beside him. Time to give him some respite from this torture for now, even if he is so delectably hateful when he's angry. "Can you go and get me a coffee from the machine?" he fishes for pocket change and hands it to Shizuo. A thousand yen should do it. 

"Why can't you go?" Shizuo asks, though secretly thankful for the distraction. Izaya captures his attention too much to feel comfortable. 

"I would, but my chair," Izaya gestures to the folded wheelchair by his seat. "I'd have to open it, slide into it, take the breaks off. Please, just this once get me my coffee?" It sounds like a plea, it isn't. An order. Or prophecy, revealing the inevitable. Shizuo can't refuse and Izaya knows it. 

"Fine," he states calmly, standing. If nothing else, it'll let him calm down. 

Once the fake blond is out of earshot, Shinra leans into Izaya. "What're you planning, huh?" 

"Nothing untoward," 

"He's my friend, please don't play with him," Shinra pouts. The last time Shizuo got his heart broken... well Shinra's keen medical eye already detects some relapse behaviours. The strong themselves are the ones most affected by their emotional turmoil. 

Izaya stays quiet, staring at the cofree table books on said coffee table. The dullahan senses something withhin him, frenetically typing. _Do you like Shizuo? _

Shinra sees it too, staring at Izaya with wide, questioning eyes. Damn, foiled again by the elusive headless rider. 

Izaya sighs into a hopeless smile. "I feel I may love him," 

*

Arriving at the vending machine, he types in the numbers and waits for the beep signalling the coffee is ready. The head supervisor approaches him, a short person with unkempt hair. "Uh, Shizuo Hewajima?" he asks. 

"Yeah?" he raises an impatient eyebrow. Yet another person he's forced to deal with. How's that coffee coming...? 

"Uh, Izaya Orihara has requested you take him out to the city today. He has a day pass," the short man hands him the form and alas, it's true. He clenches his jaw, feeling the anger rise again. Lets off steam by tearing the form from small hands. 

"Sure, that's fine," he manages to croak out. Internal panic ensues. Anxiety blaring in his head. The city, so busy with judging eyes. Maybe they can just keep to the backstreets where people are less likely to attack him. If they see Shizuo, why wouldn't prey on him in such a vulnerable moment? While he's pushing a wheelchair and cannot escape? Only the idiotic. 

_Beep. _


	3. The Third Visit

"Shizu~Chan!" Izaya announces Shizuo's return sultry, excited voice. The bartender glances down at him with an irked frown, setting the coffee on the table with hands so tense they're shuddering. 

"The name's Shizuo Hewajima," he states tersely, not minding the spitting hatred in his voice. "You wanted to go into Ikebukoro? With me?" his voice only confusion now. Traces of anger vanished behind the incredulity of someone voluntarily spending time with him. All he does is drive people away, that's his trademark. Yet Izaya is immune to whatever infectious pathogens make up his toxic personality. Maybe becasue he mirrors that toxicity. 

"Yes, I think it'll be fun don't you?" 

"Oh, we'll be going in that case," Shinra smiles pleasantly down at them as he stands up, Celty following. 

"You aren't coming with us?" 

_Both of us have work to do, _Celty politely declines, slipping an arm into her boyfriend's, her other hand across his waist in his lab coat pocket. Shinra gives Izaya a wink over his shoulder as they leave. 

Left in silence, Izaya feels compelled to break it with a clap. Silence is the enemy of the curious. Deprivation of an entire sense's worth of potential information! "I'll need to choose a coat - it's cold out there. Would you come and help me?" 

"Why?" behind his sunglasses, Shizuo's eyes narrow in suspicion. 

"I require your expertise - you're a sharply dressed gentleman after all," Izaya wheels himself into the corridor, down to his room. Shizuo wonders why he doesn't get an electric scooter. It'd be easier for the small man to get around. It must hurt his arms to push himself forward like that. 

Izaya pulls open the doors to reveal the consternate closet housing the most outrageously abhorrent fashion choices Shizuo's ever seen. Several black and dark coats each boasting their own style. Some long, some cropped. Some adorned in metal buckles and sleeves cuffed with fur matching that lining the hood. "Which one do you like best?" 

"They're all horrible," Shizuo crosses his arms indignantly, a hand instinctively making its way to his lip. He rests his chin on his wrist as if in contemplation. Really he's desperate for a smoke. Izaya watches closely which coat he looks at the most, just which one his eyes naturally land on. One of his least bold designs, plain black, thin but thick material with the odd silver button. One he considers boring but Shizuo hates it the least. The first step to love is hating less, right? 

"Can you get that one down for me?" Izaya points to it. He can't reach the bar. 

It's only now Shizuo realises the power he has over his man. Izaya is entirely dependant on him in this scenario. It should excite him, instead it saddens him. Izaya isn't one you naturally pity. Even now he can't pity him. He just seems so strong on his own way, yet he can't even get his own coat. Shizuo reaches up and hands it down to him, which he slides on over the thin V-neck, which had also has several of in this closet, stuffed at the bottom. He would never pity Izaya, but he does feel sympathy for him in this moment. 

The train to Ikebukoro is a new experience for both. Neither have previously paid attention to the old rattling cars and screeching wheels when the brakes hit at stations. Yet today their sense are heightened, absorbing each and every little detail. On the walls of the train cars brown sludge stains the metal. Shizuo stares at it to stop himself staring at Izaya as he contemplates him. Izaya represents everything he hates about the world. Unfounded claims of overconfidence and smug manipulation of the mind. Lies and facades forming a false personality. 

Shizuo is well-read on Kantian Ethics. In short summary, the school of thought dictates that freedom is the only thing unconditionally and ultimately valuable. This is his belief. Happiness is not to be subordinated for freedom, and even if lying increases happiness it subordinates freedom for happiness immorally. Freedom defined as the ability to deliberate and make decisions based on this, lying warps that into false pretenses. Izaya is the very definition of immorality based on Kantian Ethics. He deceives others with a simple look. 

Except there's something very genuine about the way he carries himself. Something accepting and kind. Shizuo doesn't think Izaya would ever judge someone arbitrarily, like himself for his smoking habit or his criminal convictions. An open minded individual who doesn't shy away from the unknown like Celty, even if he happens tp fear it. Except Shizuo doesn't think he does, and intrepid men are the only ones he can date. They need to be brave in order o give themselves completely to him. He's seeing more and more evidence supporting the conclusion that Izaya is exactly the person he could learn to love. 

Izaya looks up at Shizuo - just subtly - and swells with pride. His plan is working perfectly. He never meant to play with Shizuo and would still defend that isn't what he's doing. He's experimenting with both his own feelings and the other's just to see if they're capable of being what the other desires. So far Shizuo is exactly what he desires. And he hopes Shizuo desires him. He could make it happen a flash if he wanted to, but he doesn't want to. He wants Shizuo to truly love him back. Just as he loves all humans - but this human in particular. 

"Shizu~Chan, can I ask you something?" he smirks. 

"It's Shizuo, and sure," the tall man allows with a sigh. There's barely any point in getting angry with the nickname now, it's clearly stuck. 

"Am I safe with you?" Izaya asks. He means it in a few different ways. Are they safe going through this dangerous city together? Will Shizuo protect him? And also, is he safe trusting Shizuo not to harm him? Shizuo answers the third option. 

"No one is ever safe with me," It's a warning. If you want to do this, you must realise I could snap at any moment. Violence personified means his entire being is dependant on that violence. He is not a forgiving individual and Izaya is more vulnerable than the average person. Not that Shizuo has a problem beating average people to a pulp, but Izaya could put up even less of a fight. 

Physically anyway. If it came to that, Izaya could easily manipulate Shizuo into calming down. Instead, he just keeps antagonising him for shits and giggles. They get off the train, Shizuo pushing Izaya along in the chair. The wheels squeak when they go downhill, a noise that drills through Shizuo's skull. He gets a headache. Izaya notices his discomfort. "Hm, you seem strong enough to carry me and the chair, don't you think? It'd get rid of that annoying noise," 

Carry him? Shizuo frowns. The closeness concerns him. Hands on his body feeling all his imperfections, Izaya staring at him up close noticing all his facial flaws. A too-square, not slim enough jaw. Eyes he thinks are too small and not cute. Throwing a vending machine to crash through his insecurities, Shizuo picks him up bridal style, hanging the folded wheelchair from the crook of his elbow. 

Wandering through the city carrying Izaya with ease, he shift every so often with deep paranoia. Thee are his streets, the ones he recognises. He's not so much insecure about people seeing him carry Izaya, that's fine. Just scared of them taking advantage of it and his inability to protect this man he yearns so much to protect from his own stupidity. Ikebukoro is too dangerous for him to find love in as there will always be enemies lurking in the shadows to strike when he's at his most vulnerable. 

Not that he couldn't beat them to a pulp even while carrying Izaya but better safe than sorry. 

"Hey, can we get something to eat?" Izaya points lazily to the Burger King at the end of the street, the one where Shizuo's friend works, who gives him free meals and extras and drinks and supersizes everything. His skin crawls, legs tensing. A panicked alarm ringing in his head, wondering exactly what he can say to get out of this. 

Izaya's smile falls to a half-smirk, eyes glassed over with knowing compassion. A strange look on him but not an unpleasant one. "I know about your eating disorder Shizu~Chan and I don't care," 

"What?" 

"Your mental illness is a part of you, Shizu~Chan. It doesn't make me love you any less as a human, though it doesn't increase my love for you either. As far as I'm concerned it's not a part of your personality. I still love you the same amount," 

"Did you just tell me you love me?" Shizuo asks in utter disbelief. They've met three times, barely even. 

"I love all humans, but too often are there parts of them I find difficult. Their greed, their judgement, their prejudice. But I love everything about you - you're different. That's why I don't care about your eating disorder. I just care that my love is requited," 

"I-" 

"Of course, I don't expect an answer right now," Izaya chuckles. "But I am hopeful that's the case," 

"I... can't answer that right now," Shizuo admits, his thoughts swept away by the murky waters of confusion. Izaya is everything he hates, but everything he hates in humans, Izaya doesn't have. The man is oxymoronic at best and at worst impossible. Izaya represents Shizuo's attraction to the mysterious, the dangerous, the haughty confidence that's not a mask behind which is a broken man. Instead its the most raw version of Izaya, The façade would be if he pretended to be insecure. 

"That's fi-" Izaya's smile is cut off by a kiss. Deep and long, it isn't born of the throes of Shizuo's passion. Instead, it derives from such frustration at the confliction of his own feelings. A beautiful distraction from yourself. Release of frustration in the most tender of ways. Not throwing away your rational mind in favour of emotions, instead deciding to explore those feelings tentatively. Shizuo's cleverness is a very hidden part of him but it's evident in this kiss. Anther reason Izaya loves him, another hindrance on his journey to hatred. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I find it easier to write from Shizuo's perspective than Izaya's, I'm not sure why. But it's my first story n this anime so I'm giving myself some slack.   
I'll try to explore more writing from Izaya's perspective and hopefully learn to write it better. Maybe re-watch some parts of the anime to help. Though I don't think either of their personalities are properly explored in the anime which sucks.


	4. The Fourth Visit

Shizuo and Izaya sit against the window in the Burger King, Shizuo sipping fervently on a Coke Zero with as many refills as he wants. Izaya slowly cuts through his muffin. "So what happened to you?" he asks between sips, getting more irate by the second. He scratches his arms, desperate for a smoke. These places always make him nervous, as if he's breathing in calories. 

Izaya watches him and finds it cute, in a sad way. Jumpy people are always adorable, but not when it's destroying them to be so. He wonders what Shizuo would be like without his nervosa. 

Izaya smirks, he has the upper hand. Shizuo asks him a question - it must be dying him to not know why this young, otherwise healthy person is in this wheelchair. "You know how dangerous this city can be," Izaya sighs happily. The plastic knife sinks into a blueberry, oozing dark red insides. They shimmer under fluorescent lights. "A random stabbing by a mystery man," 

Shizuo doesn't believe that for a second. But given Izaya's personality, he can absolutely believe it. "This mystery man, did he listen to you introduce yourself? If so, I can accept that answer," 

"Do I annoy you that much?" mocking pout. "I didn't know. My humble apologies," 

"Do you not have any questions about me?" 

"I prefer to figure out things for myself, Shizu~Chan," he reaches over and steals his Coke, gulping it down until it's just occasionally bubbles climbing the straw. "I was thirsty, I didn't get to finish my coffee," he explains. 

"That was your choice! Oh never mind," Shixuo stands up quickly, brashly shoving back his seat so it creaks. Everyone looks over. He goes over for a refill and comes back. "If you're so good at figuring stuff out, what do you know about me?" 

"More than I did in Middle School," 

Middle school, Shizuo remembers. He remembers how crappy and boring his hair was and how that uniform made him look like a bland middle-aged realtor. Izaya looked a lot better, older and dangerous in his rebellious phase. Own clothes, not even the school uniform. His eyes return to Izaya's face, he hasn't aged much. A little around the eyes and jawline, but other than that, Izaya is still just as striking. 

He's changed so much Izaya didn't even remember him. 

The he notices something outside. Standing tall, flashes of yellow dotted in a formation around the streets. They've seen him, and they've cornered him. Izaya sees where he's looking and turns around. "The Yellow Scarves," he chuckles. "How interesting. Did you collect money from one of the wrong people?" 

"What?!" Shizuo growls. It pisses him off that Izaya knows his occupation. He cracks his knuckles. "You stay here, I'm going to deal with these bastards," gotta take his hatred for Izaya out on something. 

"Wait, you can't leave me-" 

Shizuo slams the glass door closed. It rattles but the glass doesn't shatter. He stands in the centre of the street, staring straight ahead. He hates violence, he isn't gonna initiate a fight. But the second someone goes for him, they'd better say their prayers. 

The leader's eyes narrows. A kid that pisses him off with those piercings and the yellow bandana concealing parts of his neck tattoo. A swastika stencilled crudely into the side of his shaved head. You know what? There's no point in Shizuo trying to control his anger anymore. It takes him over, he can't stop it. He reaches out, gripping a lamppost so hard it crinkles in his hand. Fuck being civil. 

He doesn't bother to try and hold back - cause who gives a damn, right? Shizuo wrenches it from the ground and hurls the beam horizontally against the gang members before him, crashing through their stomachs. Internal bleeding at the very least. 

* 

Izaya whines lowly, placing knife down on the table. Shizuo shouldn't be having all the fun. He wants to be part of the action too. So he pulls the folded wheelchair towards himself, popping it open. Pulling up the armrest, he lifts himself up with his relatively long arms and shifts his butt to the seat of the wheelchair. He rolls towards the heavy doors which thankfully are automatic for everyone but Shizuo. 

On the pavement, he's trapped. Blocking him is a small coagulation of Yellow Scarves members standing with their backs to him. Most of whom he recognises. Not for good reasons. His head is about level with their lower backs, he can't see over their shoulders. Smirking, he knows how he can help Shizuo. Maybe impress him just a little, too. He pulls his trusty knife from his belt. There's no hesitation. He slashes through their backs deep as the blade will go. The knife isn't strong enough to penetrate the sines, but it severs a lot of nerves. In a symphony of screams the members fall to the ground. 

Time freezes at this intersection. Shizuo, covered in blood, trembles with fear. He witnesses the members crowd around Izaya, surrounding him on all sides. This fear is such a foreign feeling - protective instincts not for himself but for Izaya. 

The information broker frowns. He never wanted Shizuo to find out this way. Not only to save his feelings. He has the feeling if Shizuo knew the whole truth, he'd murder everybody here. 

"You know not to let us see you in Ikebukoro," Crack. The members' knuckles. They come in close, standing right above him. Blocking out the sun. A blinding light and shadows; all he can see. "Ya know we still owe ya for that money you stole from us," 

"I borrowed it," Izaya refutes. "And paid that debt in full. You've disabled me for life - can you not forgive a debt of 20,000 yen for that?" 

"Like Hell we will!" he advances, Izaya's blade drawn. He's ready to fight and willing to die if it comes to that. 

"You're tellin' me you're about to kill a guy over a small loan..." 

The ominous voice. The member freezes. His knife falls to the pavement, the fallen blade _ding!_ reverberating off concrete. He's petrified, unable to turn and face the voice. 

"A guy you already fucked over for life..." 

The voice is drawing closer. 

"Even if he is an insufferable douchebag..." 

Izaya smiles. Well this is going better than he could have hoped. Shizuo Hewajima is willing to kill for him, subsequently to die for him. Within seconds, the gang member is lying in a heap of broken bones and bruises inside a fresh pothole made when his ass smashed into it so hard, his pelvis shattered like a mirror dropped downstairs. Shizuo turns to their horrified audience. 

"Anyone else wanna threaten Izaya?!" 

They scatter, leaving behind only dust. Izaya claps his appraisal. "Oooh, well done Shizu~Cha-" 

"You're pissin' me off, you know that?!" Shizuo demands, turning. He does look terrifying, a lot mores o than in middle school. The blood dripping down his face, hair sticking out wildly. Crazed eyes of passion. Izaya can tell this is no longer obligation for him. He's surrendered that control. His emotions drive him, nothing more. In another universe, they could be mortal enemies. 

"Why exactly?" Izaya knows exactly why. 

"You're a reckless bastard. Piece of shit, you coulda gotten yourself killed!" 

"I trusted you to protect me," 

"You-" he pauses. "You trusted me..." 

Nobody has ever done that apart from his brother - and that backfired. He only let him down and their relationship has been fracture ever since. Helpless to repair that brokenness. What can he do but reject Izaya''s trust? 

"I'm sorry, but-" 

Sirens in the distance, their wails of annoyance growing closer. Shizuo remembers the dead bodies on the street. Blood everywhere. On Izaya, on his knife. The blade he still holds. "Shit," is eye twitches. "Tch, we gotta get you out here. Would you be okay visiting my place?" 

"Certainly!" Izaya answers with gleeful enthusiasm. Such an idea attracts him more than it should, he can't wait to see him! It'll be like a sleepover, one of those very human events. 

"Great, then let's get going!" Shizuo grabs the handles of the wheelchair and runs him through the streets faster than any car. He doesn't care, but won't be able to see Shizuo's place today if he gets arrested. So he hides his knife and covers the blood undeath his coat. Smiling the whole ride there. 


	5. The Fifth Visit (and first date)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Izaya: *lives in a care home where there's no expectation for him to spend money*
> 
> Izaya: I don't spend much money.
> 
> Shizuo: *surprised Pikachu face*

Shizuo's apartment has an oddly welcoming glow despite the man's cold exterior. Honey walls and bright furniture. A bisexual pride flag hangs proudly from two nails driven into the wall. "I talked to the hospital," the fake blond hangs up, the phone show off in his hand as if to legitimise that statement. "They're fine with you staying over. I said you were tired and traffic is bad. Just as long as we're back by tomorrow afternoon," 

Tomorrow afternoon. Izaya never wants that time to arrive. Being here with Shizuo makes him miss this the ultimate freedom. What he's only had morsels of in the months since becoming paralysed. "How irresponsible of them," he looks up at Shizuo with eyes dripping with fake kindness. Beyond that is random flashes of honest devotion and love like stars within a solar system. Of course Shizuo is too thick to notice. 

"You're bi?" he gestures lazily to the flag. 

"Yeah, Got a problem with that?" Shizuo doesn't know Izaya's sexuality either. But even if he is gay as Shizuo suspects it doesn't mean he won't be biphobic. If he is Shizuo's more than ready to knock some sense into him.

"No need to be so defensive. There's no problem. One of my sisters is bisexual," Izaya smirks. "I tend to notice little things like that in people. That's all," 

"What do you wanna do, anyway?" Shizuo asks awkwardly. He looks around, his house is missing anything entertaining. A graveyard of broken TVs lie in his closet but that's about it. Ones he destroyed in his rages. He's always outside so he never gives a second thought to what someone who sits inside does all day. He barely owns anything not essential. 

"Do you have a computer?" 

"I do, but..." 

"It's broken," Izaya chuckles. 

"Yeah," as an afterthought. "I have a smartphone. I can call Shinra and Celty to come over," 

"Do that, call them. But tell them to meet us at Russia Sushi," 

"That place? Why?" Shizuo wonders how Izaya knows about it. How he knows Simon. There's also the matter of the truly sinister reason he got stabbed. One that certainly wasn't random. Shizuo doesn't like liars and Izaya lied to him about that. 

"You want me to tell you the truth, don't you Shizu~Chan?" he sighs, also looking away. A more fluid movement than Shizuo's but with a guilty shift in his body language. Shizuo likes body language, he likes to see people tremble in fear. "This is the only way I can tell you the truth. You'll find out about me soon enough - I'm simply too scared to tell you myself," he admits. 

"Why?" 

"I'm afraid that if I do then you'll leave me,"

Shizuo frowns. The statement is so irrational he wants to punch it out of existence. First of all, this is a man he's barely just met. How could he be so attached already? The entire point of this encounter was to get to know each other better. In a way they have. But still. Secondly, the thought of anyone not being good enough for him is laughable. He may hate certain things. Certain people. But he remains the most hateful of all. Worthy of nothing but degradation and eternal suffering simply for the suffering he causes others. Even if they deserve it. Nobody can be dependant on Shizuo because Shizuo isn't worth their dependence. 

Nevertheless he acquiesces Izaya's request and they venture forth to Russia Sushi. Simon pauses his loud advertisements on the pavement to greet them. "Ah, Izaya. Nice to see you, long time no see. You come in for Russia sushi?" 

"You know me - I can't stay away from this place," Izaya laughs. "I've been a little incapacitated but I came as soon as I could," 

"Ah yes, I heard," Simon frowns but his smile returns before anyone but Izaya can notice. "Have a good time! Try the cream cheese sushi!" 

"Cheese sushi?" Shizuo wrinkles his nose in disgust. 

"Yeah. See, Russia sushi is typically used with chicken, tune, salmon. Cheese, rice balls. That isn't traditional sushi but it's the type of sushi that the Western world is used to. Like the rice rolls you buy in sushi places in the US or UK. Those are all based on Russian sushi, not Japanese sushi," Izaya explains. 

"How do you know this?" they settle in at one of the long, oak benches at the far end from the door. 

"I've done some light travelling in my time," 

"You know," Shizuo squints at the menu. It all looks so odd. Tom used to bring him here but he can barely remember what he used to order. They have Jasmine tea, he'll likely have that. He could share a pot with Izaya. "You're getting worse and worse at lying to me," 

"Maybe you're just getting better at detecting my lies," 

Izaya orders fried chicken sushi and they agree to share a pot of Jasmine tea. The tea at least is traditional. Jasmine infused leaves settle in the strainer while Izaya pours their cups with an expert hand. "So what were you really doing on your travels?" Shizuo asks, in need of a distraction from the smell of fried chicken and the look of that sushi. How long has it been since he ate? Hunger peaks on the 2nd day of fasting. 

"I had to skip town just after middle school. People were after me, a lot of authorities wanted to take me down for something I didn't do," 

"Yeah I heard about that. With Shinra, right?" Shizuo decides fuck it, reaching over and grabbing a singular strip of fried chicken sushi. He'll hate himself with every bite but at this point he can't stop himself. 

"Right," Izaya agrees. "It's true I carry a switchblade but I never stabbed him. I finished high school in Thailand then went to America. I only returned to Japan 2 years ago, and Ikebukoro even more recently," 

Shizuo nods, looking around before asking. "And why did you get stabbed?" 

"When I returned, I used my skills as an info broker to betray the location Yellow Scarves' headquarters to a rival gang. I admit I wanted to see them taken down a notch myself," Izaya chuckles Shizuo doesn't think he's heard such a dark tone from Izaya. This raw sadism dripping with manipulative intent. This is him behind the mask of sardonic vanity. "So they were attacked by the more aggressive sect of The Dollars. Unfortunately the middle school leader of the Yellow Scarves wasn't as dumb as he looked and they figured out who snitched," 

"You thought I'd leave you over that?" Shizuo asks. He's more focused on controlling his hand, making sure this teacup doesn't shatter with the strength of his grip. "I can't stand that gang loyalty bullshit. If you wanna fuck up a gang then go ahead. I don't have anything against it," 

"Really?" Izaya mocks. "You aren't going to lecture me for being reckless?" 

"Fine. You're a manipulative bastard and don't you dare get hurt again," Shizuo rolls his eyes. "Better?" 

"Much," he agrees with a smile, sipping his steaming teacup again. The steam rises and makes front bangs fluffy. "Shizuo, is this a date?" 

"Do you want it to be?" 

"I do," 

"Then yes Izaya," he looks at the sushi again. Izaya hasn't eaten one last roll. Is he just taking a break or leaving it for Shizuo? 

"Yes Shizu~Chan. You can have the roll," 

He's still irked by the nickname but it's growing on him every time Izaya says it. It's cute, a perfect representation of the man saying it. Izaya can't resemble anything but an angry baby cat. Even if he is the sharp-tongued info broker with the dangerous butterfly effect rippling across the city. None of his threats can be taken seriously. 

"Um," he rubs the back of his neck, still feeling awkward. Feeling more like a burden. His selfish desires to blame. 

"Shizuo, take it," the tone is an order but the smirk is a challenge. This helps. He feels better about it now when it isn't his decision. He may be relying on, even using Izaya for this but right now he doesn't care. 

Izaya sets his cup down gently, not wanting to make a sound. He doesn't want to alert Shizuo to anything, sure he'd figure it all out if he looked him in the eyes. The windows to his soul and maybe to his worries. Tonight has been nothing but fun. But there is the existential screaming panic that soon it will end. All of it. Tomorrow he'll return to the care home. Shizuo's community service will end. Then what? Nothing to connect them but memories and mutual friends neither confide in, just be confidants for. Soon enough Shizuo will leave him. 

"I am getting sleepy," he sighs, rolling back his eyes and head to the ceiling. There's a distinctly Japanese geometric colour pattern arranged in an intricate tile mosaic. He tries to follow a single line of tiles but soon it spirals into chaos. The world is random, he's going to make sure fate doesn't decide the future he is desirous of controlling. "Shall we return to your apartment?" 

"Alright," Shizuo begins rifling through his pockets but from the bag hanging off his wheelchair Izaya unzips a wallet. He opens it and pulls out bills of several thousand yen. 

"I live in a care home, how much money do you think I spend?" he laughs at Shizuo's surprised face. The money is placed on the plate along with tip. Mints are offered to settle their stomachs, Izaya pops his into his mouth, sucking on the outer coating. He pretends not to notice Shizuo watching. Yes, this will be one delightfully interesting home visit. 

The bell above the door jingles open and in walk Celty and Shinra. The doctor's hair is frazzled as if sparked by a million volts of static electricity. 

"Tut tut, you're late," Izaya shakes his head. "I'm very disappointed," 

_Shut up. _Celty types. _Traffic was a nightmare! The 4-way intersection was cordoned off to investigate some big gang attack. The entire city got rerouted to the highway. _

"Oh," Shizuo's expression softens along with his anxiety. At least now he only partially lied to the care home. Traffic _was _actually difficult. 

"Yeah, I had to take the bike! Can you believe that!" 

"Hm," Izaya smirks at him, sending it seem telepathic orders for Shinra to sit. 

"Sooo. What're you two talking about?" Shinra slides in beside Shizuo, Celty by Izaya. 

"Oh nothing much," Izaya winks. "I'm staying with Shizu~chan tonight. Won't that be a fun sleepover?" 

Shinra gives him a brighter smile and a knowing look. He's blatant in his perversion, wiggling his eyebrows. "Yeah. Totally fun!" 


	6. The Sixth Visit

**Warning - NSFW. **

"I never quite understood these things," Izaya sighs, staring into Shizuo's book collection. He doesn't have many, a select few he enjoys in his calmer moments. Never could he feel comfortable enough to read around Izaya. So he thinks. "Books represent the life of a human and yet they're so far removed from that very thing. Perhaps because they are written from someone's perspective of these people. Perspectives are so often wrong and always incomplete. After all, you thought you'd hate me forever when we met," 

"Uh huh and prove me wrong on that," 

The corners of Izaya's mouth twitch up at Shizuo's delightful dry humour. Everything about him is so not-Izaya's type and yet he is entirely Izaya's type. The oxymoronic man gets up from his couch and pours himself a glass of milk in the small but modern kitchen connected to the living room. This house is so open plan, Izaya loves it. Perfect for a wheelchair but he doesn't let himself think that. He cannot suffer the disappointment returning to the car home after giving himself expectations. 

Shizuo pours himself a glass of milk. He doesn't like alcohol and milk is a way to prevent his bones deteriorating under the immense pressure of strength, recklessness, adrenaline and osteoporosis. Izaya watches him gulp it down with a lazy smile. "You can't possibly hate me. There must be a reason you invited me to stay the night Shizu~Chan," 

"Other than the fact that my apartment was close and we were being hunted by the police?" 

"You lied to the care home. You jeopardised your community service order for this," he realise these words only as he says them. Wondering exactly why Shizuo would risk so much for someone he just met and apparently dislikes. "You took a big risk just to help me. Why?" 

"I hate people who take advantage of others," he explains. "They ruined your life over a debt. I hate people like that even more than I hate you. if that's possible," 

"I wouldn't say my life is ruined at all. I can still work. You don't need legs tp be an info broker. I can still fight, you saw that today. I ca still go to restaurants and meet with my friends," 

"That's all true. But when I was running with you in that wheelchair I could tell how much it was killing you not to be running with me. You miss the thrill of the chase, don't you Izaya?" 

Izaya sighs, resting his head on his palms. Shizuo can be so cute when he's being fake-profound. Like John Watson imitating Sherlock to Sherlock himself. "You're right. That would be tedious to deny," he yawns a cat-like yawn, stretching his arms out. "I'm tired, it was a long day. Let's go to bed," 

"You barely moved!" 

"I'm tired," he states again - this time with a knowing glint in his eye, the shadows if his face stark and low. "Let's go to bed," 

"...Oh," Shizuo blinks. "I don't... I don't know,"

"Why not?" Izaya frowns, not expecting this answer. "Do you not like me, Shizuo Hewajima?" 

His smirk grows cruel "Are you afraid to break me?" 

"What? No," Shizuo rolls his eyes, entirely done with Izaya's bullshit. "I have a thing. About people seeing my body. Thought you'd figure that our you love humans to fucking much," screw it, he starts to smoke. There's a condom around the fire alarm to prevent it sounding. He smokes long and hard draws so deep the cigarette is finished after only a few. He smokes until his lungs fill to capacity. 

"I was already aware of your 'thing'," he folds his hands under his chin. "You don't need to show me anything. You can even keep that bowtie on if you want. I simply need your trust," 

He snorts at the audacious demand. "Trust you? Very funny," 

"I'm stuck in this chair," Izaya gestures to it. "If you say no, I can't make you do anything you don't want to. It's your decision Shizu~chan. I'm asking only that you consider it," 

That is how Shizuo ends up lifting Izaya from his chair to the bed, settling him down gently on a pile of cushions, His coat isn't even yet removed. He stands up once again, looking down on the man sprawled acorss his bed,. The way he's lyijng, exposing himsefl to Shizuo. It gives him a sense of power he's never felt before around Izaya. "How are we doing this?" 

"Lie down, remove what you wish," 

Shizuo takes off his sunglsses only, sitting gingerly on the end of the bed. In a swoop of courange he lies back, too staring the the ceiling, Cobwebs sit in the upper corners of his bedroom, that's now much attention he pays to this place he uses only for sleeping. "Now what?"his voice is impatient, he's nervous of being left in the dark. Nevous of every second nothing is explained clearly to him. Perhaps having power is nt the same as having confidence. 

Izaya moves only his torso across the bed, hovering over Shizuo's crotch. With expert fingers he unbuttons the sleek suit trousers and pulls down the light grey underwear. Shozuo's breath hitches once he's exposed to the cold air. A feling of vulnerability that makes his hands termor. The blood rushes down to his crotch once Izaya gfrips it. Though his hand is cold too. 

"T-The drawer..." Shizuo tries to look over, Izaya reaches before he can. There's 'warming lube' in there the flavour of strawberries, eidbile if the label to be believed. 

"We won't need this," Izaya places his tongue to the tip of the lube bottle, tasting the sweet strawberry. Tangier than he expected actually. Strange texture on his tongue. 

"What do you mean-?" 

Shizuo's question devolves into a cry of surprise when Izaya's mouth lowers full onto his member. He feels the chasm of warm cut off the cold breeze and lets himself relax into the pleasurable feelings. Rolling his hips he feels Izaya's hands placed on his hip, moving him as they see fit. He submits to the guided touch. Inexperience crippling his resources. Losing his ability to think. 

"Izaaaayaaaaaaaaa~!" 

Izaya feels Shizuo's dick swell in his mouth, he reacts aggressively. Slowly sucking and licking up the underside. He searches for Shizuo's most sensitive areas, savouring the little gasp he emits every time they're stimulated. He feels a hand in his hair eventually, Shizuo mesmerised by its softness. Izaya suddenly deepthroats Shizuo, forcing a cry from the back of his throat. Feeling the pulsing in his mouth, Izaya pulls off at the last second. 

"I-Izaya," Shizuo whimpers, feeling the frustration build in his mind and his loins. "Please,,," he whimpers out, closing his eyes in shame of his begging. From his pocket Izaya pulls a condom, placing it gently over Shizuo's member. 

"What's my name?" Izaya slowly strokes him again, being light and fluttering with his touches. Giving Shizuo a taste of the ultimate pleasure but wickedly preventing him experiencing it. 

"Izaya Orihara," 

"And yours?" he grins devilishly. Savours the anguished torture painted across Shizuo's face in contrasting reds and blues. 

"S-Shizuo Hewajima," 

"Try again," he leans in closely, breathing in Shizuo's ear. The warm breath tickles the skin, disturbing his hair. Shizuo's breath hitches, everything seems frozen. Izaya's teeth lightly nibble on his earlobe, breaking the spell. "You know what I want you to say, let me hear it," 

"Argh... Shizu-Chan...!" 

Izaya grips the base and gives a final, tough stroke to the end. He feels the organ pulsate in his hand and cum into the condom. So much, Shizuo has been pent up for some time. He puts his mouth over the condom again, letting Shizuo ride out his long orgasm until spent. Until he's nothing more than a blithering mess of exhausted anger. Maybe he just needed to get laid. 

Seeing he's slipped into slumber, Izaya rolls the condom off his dick and throws it from the bed. He thinks for a second about undressing Shizuo but instead only removes his shoes and socks, pulling the blankets up over him. Well Izaya may as well crawled under himself. He removes his coat but remains otherwise dressed. Curling up to Shizuo who radiates warmth. He's overheating, Izaya may as well be sitting inside an oven. 

The only feeling Izaya can identify in his heart right now is pain. The thought of tomorrow's new light bringing his return to the care home filling his with dread. He'd rather preserve this moment frozen in time. Stay with Shizuo in this bed forever. So he forces himself to remain awake all night in the hopes morning never comes. 


	7. The Seventh Visit

Shizuo wheels Izaya back into the care home, back to his room that looks somehow more boring now that it did before. And it was never exciting before. He can feel the tension of Shizuo's hands on the back of the chair and dreads them moment they let go. Dreads the moment Shizuo leaves, and leaves forever. Dreads losing the feeling intimate emotional touch, not even physical but someone who understands him on such a deep level. Even Shinra can't get on his level but somehow this dumb oaf can. What a mystery.

That bed with the paper thin sheets and the draughty rattling of the underpriced window are things that bother him after spending night in peace without. How did he cope with these things before Shizuo? "Well this is my stop. Thank you for a good night," His eyes narrow, his smile cruel. Cruelty directed to himself. Refusing to show his vulnerabilities with Shizuo to punish himself torturously for an imperceptible trespass.

"Wait?" Shizuo hesitantly lets go. "That's it?"

"Yep, that's it," Izaya sighs. "Was there anything else?"

"I..." _Wrong! I was wrong! _So Izaya doesn't want him, is casually discarding him at the first opportunity. Of course he is, it's all Shizuo is worth. Nothing. "No. That's all,"

Shizuo speed walks to the bathroom, entering a stall and banging the door closed. He lights up a smoke sitting on the toilet seat, the first drag ending in a deep exhale. His leg bounces with anxiety, then everything tremors. The cigarette isn't helping, the only thing that helps is crushing it underfoot. Stabbing into it with his toe and scraping it against the tiled floor until the cigarette is left a mangled mess of loose tobacco and torn paper.

"Dammit," Shizuo hates littering. The manifestation of violence stares at himself in the mirror, seeing the beast he can escape from. Unworthy of love from anyone, especially someone like Izaya. In the mirror his image is warped, disrobed by the portal of angled glass and forced 0ercetipj, His dysmorphia a monster with its hand around his throat that controls his eyes very move. Every small afterthought that relates to Izaya. Unworthy. _Fat _

The mirror shatters into a million tiny knives when his hand collides, slashed by the sharp blades kept in Izaya's pocket. They embed in his arm and blood flows freely from open-mouthed sores like the transition from river to waterfalls. It drips onto the floor. Diluting on the damp tiles. The floor absorbs nothing, acts simply as a bowl to transport his blood into different tiny tunnel to a labyrinth of scarlet tracks. Like a railway map in the earth it carves its way into the surface.

"What the Hell?!" the manager demands of him, having heard the shatter and come to investigate. "I'm phoning your supervisor!"

Shizuo accepts the fate dealt to him. Kicked off the community service crew for smoking in the care home - and whatever else he confesses to when they interrogate him, things he probably didn't do. Gathering his stuff, he refuses to walk down the corridor past Izaya's room, for the man to judge him even harsher than himself. The second he walks out the door he lights a cigarette, absorbing in the hypotheticals of his fate His new hearing rapidly approaching, a jail sentence is imminent.

*

Izaya watches him Shizuo leave from his bedroom window. Of course he's leaving, why would he stay? For someone incapable of accepting him into their life, or accepting he wants them in his life. With a bitter smile he stares outside long after Shizuo's out of sight. Staring at the stagnant impression of this street that may well be a frozen still image than a live feed. Another reason he doesn't belong here: it lacks the spark of city life he bases his entire identity on.

With the loss of Shizuo, he loses that part of himself.

"I suppose I could never turn around his hate... humans are too predictable for that," he sighs in disappointment, though with an almost expected defeat of accepting the null hypothesis. He couldn't overturn someone's emotions like that. Human emotions are too inhibited and predictable to be overcome with coercion. Even if that coercion is to the truth. That Izaya loves Shizuo and is worth loving.

But he can't be so crestfallen by a verdict he expected. His own understanding of love couldn't shift to hate. He is unable to feel anything but love for the fake blonde. "I hate being wrong..." He always does. But this time it feels a lot worse.

"Huh? Did you say something?"

Izaya cranes his neck over his shoulder with difficulty. Shinra smiles a sweet smile and closes the door behind him.

"Oh, nothing that needs to be brought up again," he wheels to the bed, pulling up his armrest. With his long arms he scoots across to the bed. "So What brings you here?"

"Would you like to come to Russia sushi with Celty and I tomorrow night?" That smile again, squeezing his eyes closed. The man is so kind for who he is. What he does. An oxymoron so amusing to Izaya, one of the few humans he finds interesting enough to surround himself with.

"Why exactly?" He rests his elbow on his pillow and props his head up.

"Well because Celty and I are celebrating! It's our one year anniversary?"

"Why not just invite us back to your house, like you usually do?" Izaya wonders.

"Oh - That," Shinra frowns. He fluctuates on the gradient between sad and worried. "She's been really self conscious about her cooking recently. I try to tell her she's really talented but..."

"Don't worry I understand," Shizuo has the same problem. Unable to accept compliments or even objective assessments. Neutral ones! Anything other than degradation frightens him. "Alright, I'll be there. What time?"

"Do you not need help to come?" Shinra asks oddly.

"I'll figure it out,"

And so he does and that Saturday night the small nurse signs a day pass for release (on the basis of Izaya's lie that Shizuo is picking him up just around the corner) and heads into the night, into Ikebukoro.

It doesn't take long for his arms to get tired, them to ache. "Dammit!" But he pushes on, forcing himself to go just a few more feet. He hisses once his elbow locks. Cramp forcing tension. And eventually his tendons rip. Painful enough to scream. But he never screams. Simply smirks even in his panic. He looks around, eyes setting upon the tower clock. Already 10 minutes late and he's all the way across the park on the West side of the city. He smirks even as tears of agony roll down his face.


	8. The Eighth Visit

Visiting Celty and Shinra's place after spending so long away from it is surreal, like entering a brand new home of people he's just recently met. The nostalgia of seeing that skyline view interrupted by the strong smell of new paint, misplaced furniture and appliances where they shouldn't be. "Uh, you've redecorated," Shizuo observes, unnerved by the change. Change is jarring at best, devastating at medium and worth dying to prevent at worst. Change, horrific and necessary. Their old décor was fine!

"Yeah, neat huh?" Shinra whistles, impressed by his own interior design. "We just have Izaya to wait for now,"

"Wait, you invited Izaya?" Shinra frowns. His spine shivers. Izaya won't want to talk to him, not after throwing him out his life the way he did. 

Celty starts in the kitchen, Shizuo makes the small talk he'll never be used to. About how his brother is doing and Shinra's new project. When Celty places down the steaming appetizers, she looks around frantically. _Hey, Izaya still isn't here?_

"No," Shinra frowns. It takes a lot to make him frown. "That's been half an hour since we appointed the time, he's usually punctual,"

"Who's bringing him anyway?" Shizuo doesn't assume he's very popular with the staff there, and not many would be willing to drive him.

"Oh he's just coming on his own," Shinra waves off casually, digging into the food.

Shizuo's eyes widen with shock, the anxiety at seeing Izaya overwhelmed by panicked worry. "He's coming on his own?! Are you insane?!" Shizuo demands, ready to flip the table and destroy everything in the room. Perhaps the room itself, the apartment itself. Not only is Izaya in a wheelchair, he's also one of the most hated and most wanted people in Ikebukoro. So many enemies. Enemies he'll be willing to provoke at extreme risk to himself. 

"He'll get killed out there, dammit!" Shizuo grabs his jacket from the back of the chair and wisps it out of the apartment. Descending to the Hell of the violent streets to save the provocative man from himself.

In the city square, Yellow Scarves members surround Izaya. The flashing of pocket knives catch his eye from all directions and he grips his own that sits readily in his pocket. Only his head moves, he still can't see how many target him. Dozens, Perhaps hundreds, crowd around the man. Ready to kill, not prepared to die. "Shizuo would hate all of you," he sighs contentedly.

"IZAYYAAAAAAAA!"

"Speak of the devil," he grins with sadism, anticipating a marvellous display of murder and mayhem at the hands of the man he loves more than any normal human.

A crash, a bang and a flash. And the gang members are either left mangled on the street, thrown into building with such force the walls are crushed, or fleeing with terrified whimpers.

"Shizu~chan, you came to rescue me!" He hopes he doesn't sound as relieved as he is.

Shizuo approaches with bloodied clothes and broke sunglasses that sit askew on his nose. "You bastard, I'll kill you for this you know!" He admonishes furiously. "Stupid brat. How could you be so irresponsible to go out on your own?! In Ikebukoro!"

The man has no sense of self preservation, another thing Shizuo hates about him.

"Did you miss me, Shizu-Chan?" Izaya asks, a gasp at the end of the question. Shocked he allowed Shizuo that piece of himself. The knowledge he truly wants him around.

"Tch," Shizuo lights a cigarette. "Course I did,"

And that is all that needs to be said for them to know they'll spend the rest of their lives together. Inevitable love than transcends understanding from ether man. They simply cannot love without one another and therefore never will.

Shizuo picks up the wheelchair with Izaya still sitting in it and simply walks it back to the house.

Shinra is waiting by the door, ready to attack Izaya with hugs and fawning. "Oh, are you okay?! Did you get hurt?! I'm so glad you're safe!"

"I'm fine, but I think Shizuo needs you to tend his wounds," he sighs when he's rested on the wood floor.

Everyone eats together and laughs at the strange evening, Shinra stitching up a gash on Shizuo's shoulder between bites. They compliment Celty's cooking skills but unanimously decide to get takeout next time.

Eating together, a pastime done by so many around the world feels so special between Izaya and Shizuo. As if the simple act of sharing a mean across the table bonds them in wedded matrimony.

"Take me home tonight?" Izaya asks.

"You still stay at the care home," Shizuo sighs, wheeling him in that very direction. Gritting his teeth, the screaming in his head turns against him. Berating him. "And I'm too dangerous to be around you,"

"That's not true, where did you hear that?"

"My trial is coming up, I didn't finish community service," he sighs. "I might get sent down. Maybe prison is where I need to be,"

"Nonsense," Izaya retorts with a passion befitting his love for humans. "We'll fight this. I have all my underground contacts to help out, remember? Plus the testimony of someone you connected with in there who made you turn your entire life around to take care of him,"

It takes Shizuo too long to realise Izaya's talking about himself.

"But I deserve it. About time I went down for the shit I did..."

"Shizu~Chan," Izaya clicks the breaks on his wheelchair, making Shizuo stumble and almost topple into the chair with him. "If you think I would ever let that happen, you're wrong,"

"What if I want it to?" He sneers dryly. The feelings of immense guilt return. Guilt for all of it. Izaya, eating, the fight, _eating. _An urge to punish himself arises, Shizuo lightly scratching his arm just to distract his mind. Perhaps to fulfil the urge. Satiate that warped desire for suffering that just piles on more guilt. Guilt for destroying something Izaya loves. He hangs his head. "I'm too dangerous to be free. I don't deserve it,"

Regarding the man before him with conflicting fascination and frustration, Izaya feels for the first time what it is to be annoyed. He can't make Shizuo understand that he isn't worth condemning. It's like talking to a brick wall! But he sighs with defeat. He refuses to manipulate Shizuo and that's unfortunately the one trick in his magical inventory.

Without it, he must simply intervene with brute force to keep his partner out of prison. 


	9. The Ninrth Visit

Sleek wooden benches varnished to sleek polish. The smell a tantalising chemical one, one Izaya loves entirely. He's always enjoyed the burn of chemicals. On his skin, in his nose, making his eyes water. This varnish is no different. Sitting in a dark corner at the back of the courtroom lit dimly under a glowing overhead bulb. He has to tilt his head to see the bench over the heads of the gallery members. Watching the judge approach the bench.

"Today we will be reviewing the case of Hewajima Shizuo, presiding judge giving sentencing for a guilty plea of aggravated assault and non-compliance with a community service order sentence,"

Izaya watches from the gallery, having arrived now, in the middle of the case. He would have been here earleir if he handed run into some unpleasantness in Ikebukoro. Shizuo can't see him, turned forward with his arms down in handcuffs. Head bowed with submissive shame. He looks amusingly weak like that, filling Izaya with a certain sadistic pleasure.

Shizuo remains impeccably dressed, sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose. Sliding down, the man unable to swipe them back up. 

"You made it," Shinra whispers to him from the edge of the gallery. Of course Celty couldn't be here, the Black Rider still a fugitive. She would be arrested on sight and concealing her appearance would be too risky to attend the hearing. 

"How's it going?" Izaya peers over the barrier, stretching up to see like a normal person. 

"Honestly? It's touch and go at the moment," he sighs.

"What's been said so far?"

"Well it's all quite difficult to follow. All these legal terms..."

Legal terms Shizuo has heard so much he knows their intricacies more than any other. What they mean in the law which differs what they mean for him, when the corrupt asshole police in this city drive their agenda against him. Though for this, he cannot lie, he is at fault. He acquiesced to his strength and assaulted those guys. Even if they were the epitome of degeneracy, he attacked them. And then he allowed his emotions to overwhelm him and get expelled from community service. 

Sometimes it honestly isn't his fault and on those instances, he defends himself. But this time, he already got off with only community service. That's already an injustice for such violence.

The judge knows it too, leaning over and gazing at Shizuo with stern eyes unforgiving towards his actions. 

"You are 24 years of age and acting like a teenaged delinquent. You were offered a free pass on your violent acts and you threw it in the face of the court system by committing petty crime _at your rehabilitation service!" _

"I...I didn't commit petty crime," Shizuo defends slowly, dragging out the seconds for himself to calm down between each syllable.

"You we're terminated for smoking in a public owned building. That is an offence Mr Shizuo, and one that is completely irresponsible! Did you even consider the residents of he care home suffering from ill health? And how you could have damaged that wih second hand smoke?" 

Unable to listen to this anymore, Izaya wheels down from the gallery and out the back door. Ashamed with himself by entirely optimistic. Playing the redeemer by reversing his own evil doings. And somehow that makes him the hero? A tantalising thought. 

*

_"Shizuo Hewajima is hereby sentenced to six weeks custodial sentence," _

Shizuo paces furiously around his cell. Back and forth. 12 feet by 8, only about 5 steps. from one end to the other with his strides. Now he just needs to do this... many hundreds of times, and his step goal will be achieved. _Count: 1, 2, 3, 4 , 5 steps_. 

He arrives at the bars for the several hundredth time. Stroking the cold metal that bites through his fingertips. He could pry these bars open if he really wanted to. But what then? Somehow escape the prison, go on the run, become a fugitive? Running away from his problem doesn't seem so easy when taken literally.

"Dammit,"

He slams his head against the bars, feeling a trickle of blood run down is face, a dent and small scar in the metal.

"Shizuo Hewajima?"

A burly man dressed in the officer's uniform. Sparkling golden keys hanging from his belt, an alter the prisoners worship.

"Yeah?" He looks up, frowning. What now? Peace is all he yearns for.

The officer begins unlocking the door without asking Shizuo to put his hands through to be cuffed. "Your sentence got overturned,"

Suspicion floods him, not only that the corrupt city police are behind this. A writhing over his skin makes him paranoid of Izaya's involvement. "What? Why?"

The guard raises an eyebrow. "You complaining?"

"No, just... confused," he admits slowly, following the officer with impassion through the hallways.

He collects his belongings, though was allowed to keep his Enchroma glasses the entire time, for medical reasons of course. Arriving at the main reception, he's shocked to be greeting by his case officer and Izaya.

"You idiot," the case offcier groans, head hanging over sheets of paperwork spread across the table at all angles. "You caused a lot of trouble for me, don't you know that?"

Still baffled, the tall man sits by them. "Huh?"

"If you'd just told me you made up all your hours we wouldn't have had to go to court!"

"What do you mean?" Why isn't anyone explaining everything?! They expect him to read between the lines, an assumption unfounded except by their own presuppositions.

"Turns out you taking care of me when the roads were blocked," Izaya smirks slightly, eyes narrowed in amusement at his own mischief, and the dumbfounded look on Shizuo's face. "And rescuing me when I got stranded in the park, each add hours to your service rota. Enough hours that you completed your community service in full!"

The briefest flash of intense emotion appears on Shizuo's face, though gone in an instant so fleeting even Izaya can't discern it. His expression dissipates into a blank sate, hollow eyes behind indigo shadows under a fringe he's permitted to grow. Shizuo sits beside his caseworker, reviewing each painstaking page of paperwork to be filled out to clear him of his crimes. 

Once they complete it, and Shizuo's case worker leaves with an exasperated but relieved groan, the remaining two are overwhelmed by the silence of the lobby. 

Izaya observes with precision each microexpression Shizuo makes, though concealed behind the sunglasses and hair, he can't deduce much. Lips slightly parted, his smile too perfect to not be deceptive. Hiding the vulnerability of not knowing. Izaya hates not knowing. "Aren't you going to thank me?" 

"Why should I?" Shizuo's voice hard and full of blame. It's almost a default with him whatever he says. If someone else isn't to blame, then he himself is. "You think you're a damn hero cause you got me out? That I should be grateful to you?" 

"Why would you not be?" a test, the ultimate test of Shizuo's standing as an intellectual equal to Izaya. The determiner of their future together. 

"Cause it was your fault I ended up in here," 

"I didn't put the cigarette in your hand,"

"Tch," Shizuo scratches the skin around his fingernails. He would light up a smoke, but he doesn't wanna get arrested n the literal lobby of a prison. Would be a cool record, though. "You tellin' me you weren't trying to manipulate me into fucking it up back then?" 

"Well..." Izaya's smile grows, the corners of his mouth sharply slicing through his cheeks. He chuckles lowly at the man's perceptiveness. He pretends to be nothing but a brute whose actions are decided by instinct alone. No, Shizuo is driven by intuition. "I wanted to see what you'd do," 

He looks up, catching Shizuo's gaze. 

"And what will you do?" 

The question of the century that gives him a dull headache. "I don't know," he admits, senses overwhelmed by confusion and anger. Dull throbbing in his temples, blinding him. 

Arms wrapped tightly around his torso snaps him out of the complex geometry that pains him. "Shizuo! I'm so glad you're out!" Shinra cuddles him close, the hug cutting off circulation in more than one place. Since when was the doctor so strong? 

"Hey... y-yeah, me too," he pats Shinra's hand, making him release him. 

"What are you gonna do now?" Shinra smiles innocently, though shoots knowing looks at both Shizuo and Izaya. 

"Ugh," full 360, and now his head hurts again. "I guess I have no choice but to take you home with me? Your nurse ain't here and I'm not letting you go through the city alone," 

"Let's go home then, Shizu~chan,"

Izaay can feel the tension in his wheelchair the entire ride home. It melts away when the door closes with a final click. Shizuo resting against the wall. "I hate you, pain in the ass," he grumbles. 

"And yet you decide to keep me?" 

"You can leave whenever you want," he waves towards the door. "In fact I encourage it," a stab pf worry pierces his heart when he considers Izaya might actually disappear form his life. 

"I can't do that. See, I was wrong," Izaya sighs, admitting the failure of at least part of his experiment. "I could never hate you enough to leave," 


	10. The Tenth Visit

Unable to pinpoint the exact moment he knew the rest of his life will be spent with Izaya, instead Shizuo counts the days they've spent together. Ten. Ten days to determine the fate of his lifetime. Though it seems to haver been decided the moment they met. "You ready yet?" he hangs nonchalantly by the doorway to Izaya's room in the dingy care home. The smell of cleaning products scratching his nostrils for the final time. 

How does he reconcile his own morality with the devious Izaya? The liar, the cheat, the thief? He doesn't. Izaya is amoral, outside the realms of that binary spectrum of good and evil. His lies contradict Shizuo's fundamental philosophy of people. Disallowing others the freedom to deliberate based on the truth. A deception that strips the people he fools of their ability to make informed decisions. But still, it's impossible to hate him. 

And the one person he doesn't hate even a little bit, all that's left is to love him. 

Izaya surveys the room, stroking the cold sheet blankets, thin with holes his fingers poke through. He'll never miss this room except the nostalgia it brings. Nostalgia of the moment he met Shizuo, and for the first time in a long time, felt confused by the behaviour of a human. Unpredictability never before realised. That's what presented the potential of hate, yet just makes Shizuo his favourite human. 

"Give me a moment, I want to check I have everything," 

"You have everything, I watched you pack," 

"I'm lying to make you leave me alone for five minutes," Izaya rolls his eyes. "Get with it, Shizu~Chan," 

"Mmf," His eyes narrow in irritation, more from being excluded from Izaya's personal contemplation. Shizuo deserves to be included in Izaya's alone time. He walks off, Izaya hears his feet shuffle on the carpet. The heels he wears specifically to click on hardwood floors feckless in this realm of overly fluffy carpets and rugs. 

Izaya reaches down, pulling away the false bottom from his dresser drawer. Out falls an album coated in dust, he strains to picks it up, stretching his fingers to grab the tiniest corner. Resting it in his lap, he opens it to reveal Shizuo's picture. An older one from their school days shared together. 

A time when Izaya terrorised the world around him with a vengeance scorned by the way others treated not him, but one another. Human empathy lacking in so many people that the necessary is regarded as a reverence - a phenomena that sickens him. That the required becomes the virtuous. 

Shizuo held an insane level of this empathy, delving into obsession over self-loathing when he couldn't please everyone in every situation. Making him even angrier, even more likely to take his shit out on other people, and judge them too harshly for their actions, the same way he judges himself. 

Another reason he loves Shizuo above all other humans. Shizuo demands the most of himself to be a moral person. In middle school, studying moral philosophy on his own in the corner, unaware anyone was watching. Unaware his worst enemy was so impressed by him, inspired by the unfiltered devotion to humanity. 

When Izaya recognised him the day he arrived here - even with the fake blonde hair - he knew he'd resurrected his love for the best human to ever exist. 

Izaya stuffs the notebook under his butt. A smirk plastered over the warm smile his face keeps naturally slipping into. He wheels out the room and towards Shizuo, who's typing away furiously on his phone. The blonde grabs the handles of the wheelchair and leans down. "Where are we going now? Home?" 

"Home to drops these off," Izaya supposes, gesturing to his luggage. "But we do have a dinner at Celty's to make up for," 

"Good idea, I'll call 'em," Shizuo agrees, nuzzling into Izaya's hair a little just on instinct. Spiky yet soft and buoyant. A fluffy puffball he wants to pet and ruffle and twirl between his fingers. Reluctantly he lets go of it and begins the trudge to the metro station, an underground tunnel system concealed under the noses of the Yellow Scarves. 

* 

Celty and Shinra are more than happy to have them over for a Saturday night party. A bottle of wine is cracked open to celebrate their moving in together as a couple, cork popped and bubbles raining down on the couple. 

You guys haven't known each other that long, huh? Celty asks. Only a month, aren't you moving too fast?

Shinra and Izaya share knowing, nervous looks. The relationship Izaya had with Shizuo back in middle lingers on the doctor's mind. The abuses, the attacks, the deception. It makes him worry for their relationship, he isn't sure who'd suffer more if things fell apart. 

Thankfully, Celty can't detect tension in the air and Shizuo's too oblivious to notice, distracted by the sushi.

"Not too fast at all, not when you feel like this!" The fake blonde attacks the takeaway box from Russia Sushi, with animalistic urgency. His metabolism has finally overtaken any rational thought he has and demanding a constant supply of the protein it's been deprived of. Everything is seen through the hazy numbness of innate survival instinct. Fight, flight, or devour everything edible in his friends' house while dissociating from the situation. A way tp protect both his life and his psyche. 

"Yeah, a little fast," Izaya contradicts. "But we're ready to settle down together, I know I won't find any human like him," Izaya stares at Shizuo's with an endearing passion burning away just below the surface. Fiery heart melting him from the core of his heart diffused to a warm glow on his skin. His love evident, only if you look carefully and deep, deep inside. 

"That love is so pure!" cooes Shinra, their biggest shipper. "You two are honestly my OTP!" 

"That's how I felt about you and Celty - but you just denied you were in love with her the whole time," Izaya chuckles. "You should know you can't fool me," 

Nothing gets past you, the Dullahan sighs with a lazy smile, leaning against Shizuo's arm and sliding her hand over it. A very physical but also emotionally intimate love between two beings that shouldn't have ever met, or even been contemporaries. If Celty never lost her head... Shinra doesn't want to imagine a life without her. 

Shizuo's food inebriation catches up to him and in an instant of digestive exhaustion, he crashes from the extreme nutrient high. From Heaven to the bottom of the lake of Hellfire. Carbs stuck in his throat and chest, breath lost. 

He falls asleep against Izaya, who pats him gently on the head. "Well, we'd better be going," 

"Yeah, if you think I'm letting you two leave without protection you don't know humans as well as you thought," Shinra scoffs dismissively. "You can crash here for the night! Celty doesn't mind, right?" 

Not at all, she shows Izaya her screen, shrugging a smile. Shinra and I can take the couch! 

"Uh... we can?" her husband pouts. 

Uh... wheelchair, remember? They automatically get the bed. 

"Oh yeah," he chuckles. He completely forgot for a second, remembering the active Izaya in middle school. 

The doctor's strength betrays his lithe form as he carries Shizuo through to the bedroom bridal-style. It's a strange sight, like an optical illusion - someone so small carrying someone so tall, warping Izaya's perception of appearance and inner strength. 

So Izaya, you really love him? Celty asks. 

"I love all humans. Just not equally," he laughs. 

You're impossible! 

"I'm honest about who I love. Everyone - Shizuo's just special," 

Shinra strips a lightly stirring Shizuo down to his boxers before dressing him in a pair of loose yet too-short pyjamas and lies him down in bed. He huffs, cheeks tinged red with exertion. "You're a real piece of work! You ate everything in the house! I paid honest money for that!" he whines, not loud enough to wake Shizuo form his coma. 

"Money, maybe. Honest? Not at all," Izaya smirks from the doorway. 

Shinra whirls around. "Don't be mean - you have no place to talk!" 

"No, I don't. But unlike you, I don't pretend to be part of the domestic life," he explains. "I don't deny my criminality," 

"You will now," he stares at Shizuo. "You won't put your love in danger for your own whims," 

Izaya rests his lazy head on his hand. "Is that a challenge?" 

"It's a plea," he sighs. "I care about Shizuo, and I know you do too. Don't drag him into anything. Please, Izaya," 

His smirk slips off his face. "I won't," 

Shinra helps Izaya into pyjamas too, and into bed. Leaving them alone, the light of the hallway penetrating their chasm of darkness with golden laser beams. Izaya rolls over, tenderly brushing Shizuo's hair from his face. Brown roots show under the yellow-blonde. 

He kisses Shizuo's forehead, smiling when he stirs a little, stretching out like a cat with pleasure at the touch. "Hush, sleep," 

"Iza....Izayyyyaaaaaa," he growls lightly in a nightmare. Perhaps a dream, since their chases and the shouting of his name has a double meaning once they got together. A growl of a moan, that can mean anything. 

From the chair beside the bed, Izaya reveals the notebook again. He opens it at a fresh page, picking a fountain pen from the binding. At the top, he scratches in. 

_Shizuo: Updates_

_Possibly a cat. Possibly an alien. An extraordinary human at least. One worthy of more love than I can give. Except I'll do my best t match his worth. _

Izaya knows now that his era as an information broker has come to an end. Anything to keep his Shizuo safe.


End file.
